


Purely For Show

by Catchclaw



Series: Mental Mimosa [60]
Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Diplomacy, Fake Marriage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-22
Updated: 2018-06-22
Packaged: 2019-05-26 21:29:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15009827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catchclaw/pseuds/Catchclaw
Summary: “We’re not supposed to be in love,” Loki hissed, “we’re supposed to bemarried.”





	Purely For Show

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: When I speak passionately, that’s when I’m least to be trusted and Magical themes (love spells; magical characters or creatures; magical lands or settings; predictions; curses; possession; fairytale). Prompts from this [generator](http://colormayfade.tumblr.com/generator) and this [one](http://bleep0bleep.tumblr.com/prompts).

“We’re not supposed to be in love,” Loki hissed, “we’re supposed to be _married_.” He shook his arm as hard as he could without it being obvious and tried to pull his hand free of Thor’s massive paw. His brother only clung to him tighter.

“Darling,” Thor said in a voice that would melt gold, “I’m only holding your hand.”

“That’s all you’re doing now, but what was all that bullshit before? Was it really necessary for you to say all of that nonsense in front of the delegation from Midgard? You were selling them rather hard, don’t you think?”

Thor, the great oaf, moved somehow like a snake, and a moment, later, Loki found his hand free but his shoulders suddenly heavy with the curled, warm weight of Thor’s arm, his high wooden chair pulled precariously to one side.  “If they are to believe,” Thor said, “that it’s in their best interests to ally themselves with us, that their best chance at repelling an invasion from Svartalfheim lies in joining their efforts with ours, then they must see the strength that our realms,  Johtunheim and Asgard, have found in their union.”

“I understand that,” Loki said through clenched teeth, “because that was my fucking idea, but this--!”

Thor laughed, pressed the sound into Loki’s hair. “They are simple people, the women and men of Earth. The union of whole worlds would be difficult for them to grasp. But the joining of two beings, each from disparate Realms? That’s a concept they understand.”

Around them, the festivities spun, light and sound and delight, the best that the king’s court had to offer. Far more effort, Loki thought sourly, than was truly necessary; the Midgardians would’ve been impressed with a bonfire in one of the far fields and a few beautiful and willing youths. All of this nonsense--everybody in armor, the kitchens flung wide open, a never-ending ocean of Light Elf wine--was purely for show.

The worst part was that they didn’t need the humans’ permission or acquiescence, anyway. It would have been an easy thing to sweep in and demand, to descend to their patch of dirt and instruct rather than ask. But Thor, his dear, exasperating brother, was determined to be a new sort of king, to edge away from the obeisance that Odin had demanded and instead embrace collaboration based on the strengths of each Realm.  Which was all fine and good in theory--something fine to banter about on an evening when the borders were quiet and their only worry was where to find more wine--but in practice? Far more complicated and annoying than Loki had foreseen. And that was before Thor insisted he embrace this ridiculous and frankly insulting visage: Queen Consort to the King of Asgard? Please.

Although the clothing that Thor had picked out for him, left draped at the foot of his bed, was, in truth, rather fetching. The dress was the color of the night sky in midsummer, a deep plum whose folds faded to black. It left his throat bare and his shoulders, and the cut did lovely things for his breasts, lifted them to a soft, perfect curve onto which his long, dark hair could tumble, and kissed the swell of his hips before tumbling in living waves to his feet. That he would catch the eye of the dullard humans in such a guise was no surprise; that even some of the king’s most trusted, seating with them at the high table, had also looked too long and licked their lips as he ascended to his seat, his fingers resting on Thor’s outstretched palm, though--that had been unexpected. For they all knew the ruse, knew that as soon as the men and women from Earth were sent back home on the bifrost, Loki would slip back into his everyday form, and yet somehow their eyes did not stray so far from him. Some, indeed, were still daring to look.

He wondered if Thor had noticed.


End file.
